acting as if I was dead. Then the Green Berets walked among the fallen people. If anyone moved or moaned, they put a pistol bullet in their heads.
'When they were sure there were no survivors they looted the village and got back on their helicopters and flew away. I got up and looked for my family. They were all dead. When the Bolivian Federal Police arrived I hid at first, but when I saw they were not Green Berets, I came out.'
NOTE: Pictures of the massacre's victims can be found on page 2. See the Editorial Page for further commentary by the staff of El Conquistador.
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Anti-American demonstrations broke out in all the major urban areas of South America. Leftist organizations marched in protest through Buenos Aires, Santiago, Bogota, La Paz, Caracas and other capital cities. In some cases the police lost control of the demonstrators, and full-scale riots broke out in which American embassies and counselor offices were stoned. The members of the Falangist movement were highly amused that these left-wing radicals were unknowingly aiding a fascist cause.
Condemnations of the crime were voiced in the General Assembly of the United Nations and even some elements in Congress were calling for special hearings on Capitol Hill. Talk shows on both radio and television buzzed with opinions both in belief and disbelief of the killings. Both the left and right spectrums of American politics were all heard in full voice. Shock jocks, Hollywood stars, television personalities and journalists with agendas voiced their opinions and assessments of all aspects of who had killed the poor people of Novida so far away in the Gran Chaco region of Bolivia. During an interview, a well-known actress who supported radical causes spoke tearfully and passionately of the murdered people. However, when questioned further by the interviewer, she could not accurately give the locale of the Gran Chaco or even Bolivia.
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FUERTE FRANCO CONVICT CAMP
2200 HOURS LOCAL
THE convict bivouac behind the barbed wire enclosure was quiet. But all the men were wide-awake and gathered in a meeting in which business was conducted in low voices to avoid being overheard by the guards or passersby. The man presiding over the get-together was Gordo Pullini. He was the one who had stepped forward first when Coronel Jeronimo Busch called for volunteers to fight for the Falangist cause. The others had been watching him for his reaction, and as soon as he made a move, they did the same. Now these followers listened intently as Pullini explained some important matters to them.
'You tipos keep one thing in mind,' he cautioned them. 'These fucking Falangistas aren't to be trusted, comprenden? The main thing we must concentrate on is biding our time and make a careful study of what we must do to escape from these locos. The opportunity will depend on timing. But the first thing we must figure out is just where the hell this place is. Without that knowledge, we don't know which direction to go after we break out of here. Going the wrong way means ending up running straight back into the arms of the law. That is a one-way trip back to the penitentiary in Patagonia?'
'For those who aren't executed,' one man added bitterly.
WHEN Capitan Roberto Argento arranged to have the twenty-four convicts released into the custody of the Falangists, he was unaware that instead of a random selection being made from the overall prison population, all two dozen were members of a well-organized prison gang called the Cofradia. The name translated into English as 'guild,' a group of like persons or even a religious brotherhood. In a way, the Cofredia was all these things rolled into one.
They were one of a dozen gangs in the penitentiary. The great majority of convicts joined these organizations. A man alone would perish amid the convicts who were part of society's worst outcasts. None had anything to lose, and life was cheap. But when a prisoner was accepted into a gang, he had moral support, friends and a feeling of worth. Most of all, he had protection. In exchange for this he was expected to give his gang blind support even to the point of sacrificing his own life for the good of the others. If he found himself in such a situation, he might as well go ahead and take it all the way. If he failed or refused a suicide mission, his former pals would turn on him, and he would end up dead anyway. His mutilated body would be found in a remote corner of the penal facility by the guard staff.
The Cofradia gang had been extremely lucky when it came to their leaders. Throughout the twenty years of their existence three of their members had emerged from the ranks to take over and direct their activities. Through diligence, cunning and ruthlessness, they had gained control over drug trafficking, gambling and even a brothel in which prostitutes from the outside were brought in once or twice a month. It was true these unfortunate women were the lowest of the low in their professions, but for men without women they were virtual goddesses, examples of the utmost in feminine beauty, and sex with them was heavenly when compared with having to use another man to relieve one's passions.
All the initial investments made by the Cofradia in blood and money had paid off handsomely. In fact, the businesses were so successful that legal currency was used in all transactions rather than bartering of goods such as cigarettes and candy as is normally done in jails. The latest of these leaders, Gordo Pullini, had carried on the good work with customary success, and the gang had eventually amassed a million pesos--$330,000 American--that were waiting to be used when the right investment opportunities came along.
The Cofradia had excellent relationships with several high-ranking guards through blackmail, favors and a generous split of the take on the drugs, gaming and sex. When the word came down from the guard commander's office that a transfer to a labor camp was available, Pullini jumped at the chance to get his boys outside the walls. This was an opportunity to realize a very special dream. If they could get free, their treasury could be used for an escape to Colombia, where they could buy themselves into the lucrative business of smuggling drugs into the United States and Europe. When Pullini told the gang his plans and that they would live in luxurious mansions with beautiful women all under the protection of the drug cartels, they enthusiastically okayed the idea.
Pullini arranged to sell their business interests to a rival gang called the Culebras--the Snakes--for another million pesos. This brought their total treasury up to $660,000 American. After bribing the guard commander a measly $10,000 not to search their persons and belongings when they left the prison, the gang waited patiently for the trucks to show up to take them out to their great adventure.
NOW the Cofradia were in their camp within Fuerte Franco. Their money was still hidden away among their possessions. The Falangists were not properly trained or experienced in maintaining custody of convicts. Their search activities were pathetically inadequate when pitted against men who had lived for long years filled with subterfuge and secrecy in the bowels of confinement.
A sharp whistle from a lookout alerted the gang that someone was approaching the wire. The meeting quickly broke up as the convicts turned their attention back to normal camp life. Suboficial Adolfo Punzarron, recently back from his trip to Santiago, Chile, was at the gate with Coronel Jeronimo Busch.
'Oigan!' Punzarron yelled. 'Listen up! All of you come over to the gate. Coronel Busch has something to say to you.'
The prisoners dutifully walked from their rows of tents up to the camp entrance. Gordo Pullini pushed his way to the front. Busch looked them over, then spoke in a loud voice.
'Fellow fighters for Fascist freedom! We have learned that norteamericanos have committed a horrible crime at a nearby village. These were the notorious Green Berets who are well-known for their cruelty. They machine gunned every man, woman and child who lived in the little community of cattle herders. You will go with us to avenge these murders and kill the Americans. You will be given weapons and allowed the honor of participating in this act of sacred vengeance to be done in the name of Falangismo.'
'Vivan los Falangistas!' Pullini cried. 'Muerte a los Green Berets!'
The other convicts echoed the cry. 'Long live the Falangists! Death to the Green Berets!'
Busch smiled. 'You are showing the right spirit. We have not erred in bringing you into our cause. Do not worry, companeros, your time to fight is nigh.'
'Soon you will have those weapons the coronel mentioned,' Punzarron said. 'You will be able to fight like men. Do you have any questions?' He looked at the convicts, who gazed back with blank expressions on their faces. 'Very well. You are dismissed.'
Pullini led his men back into the interior of the tent community as Busch and Punzarron watched. Bush frowned in puzzlement. 'Have you noticed something, Suboficial? There are times when those convicts seem to be a well-organized group. It would seem they even have some form of discipline:'
